WARNING: This is Slash between Fenrir Greyback and Harry Potter. There is also disturbing scenes due to the world of werewolves and its pack. In my view, werewolves are… odd creatures once they join together.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!

Summary: Harry was just a boy when he turns into a werewolf, against Fenrir’s wishes. That is until Fenrir discovers that this tiny pup is his mate and will do anything for him. What happens when the Ministry gets wind that Greyback has Harry in his custody? What happens when the two will get separated? There will be twists and turns in this, I can’t give too much away.

Chapter One: Dog Bite

A small boy around seven ran through the park, not stopping as he slammed his hipbone on the corner of the picnic table. Voices taunted him as he spread the distance between himself and the raging crowd.

His cousin, Dudley, had chased him, wanting to play a new game called ‘Harry Hunting’. Of course, Harry took one look at the enormous members of his gang and high tailed it out of their company. Although he wouldn’t stand a chance against his cousin’s friends, he could stand a chance at getting away.

He was small for his age and knew it. His bones were delicate and his height was dwarfed next to any other seven year old. This could be due to the treatment his relatives put on him. Of course they never hit him besides a few backhand slaps here and there, but they threw him inside a cupboard for days on end and hardly gave him any food to live off.

Once he heard the voices die off behind him, did he stop. The wind blew at his black hair which was originally stuck to his sweaty forehead and he collapsed on a nearby yellow slide. The sun was going down on the horizon and the full moon was glowing brightly in the sky.

He should probably be getting home by now and face his relatives after running away for the third time in a row. After that, probably the cupboard without any food for the next day.

Standing up he took a couple steps on the soggy woodchips but stopped after he heard a dry branch snap in half. He whirled around and glared in the branches leading in the small forest.

“Dudley?” His small voice pierced the dark silence, but his large cousin never answered.

Deciding that it was probably a rabbit or another animal, Harry continued on his way. That was until he spotted two yellow eyes looking out from the dark.

His small heart started beating faster and he never wasted time to satisfy his curiosity on seeing what it was, because he was running as fast as he could away from the eyes.

A growl sounded behind him, and Harry whimpered in fright. It must have been a dog, a big one according to the heavy strides it made after him. Was he going to die?

In his young age, Harry was intelligent for his seven years. He knew that he would never make it alive if he kept running. The dog would eventually catch up to him and tear him to shreds. The only two options were to stop and see if the dog would play nice or hide somewhere the dog wouldn’t be able to get him.

Seeing the small toddler tube slide, Harry decided on option two and hoped the dog was larger than that hole. With a giant leap, Harry climbed up the slide from the bottom.

Growl

With a high pitched scream, Harry tried to desperately climb up the slide as the growl sounded right behind him at the edge of the slide. He would make it, he knew that... that is until a terrible, sharp, pain pierced him at his ankle and he allowed himself to cry in pain. The dog had bitten him and would continue to do so until he climbed out of harms way. Gathering up his strength, he pulled his weight up and away from the dogs reach.

His blood flowed down the pink slide, staining it in its path. It was then when he took a good look at the dog that had bitten him. It wasn’t a dog, but a very large brown wolf. The wolf’s muzzle was snapping inside the slide, trying to get a reach for the human flesh and Harry started to cry in fright and relief.

The wolf wouldn’t be able to get him anymore. He would wait here until morning until it disappeared.

Making sure he was secure, he laid in the slide and shut his eyes from the sight of sharp, yellow, teeth snapping his way. He tried to block out the wolf's angry growls and sniffs at his blood.

--FH--

It wasn’t until morning when he exited the slide. The wolf disappeared about an hour after the bite, but Harry didn’t dare to leave when it was still dark outside. The Dursley’s probably didn’t even care that he was gone all night.

Once he put his weight on his wounded ankle, he hissed in pain. It was probably sprained or something. He didn’t want to look too long at it because the dried, black blood made his stomach clench at the sight.

Taking a deep breath, he put on a determined face and kept his pace all the way ‘home.’ Since it was so early in the morning, people wouldn’t be walking on the paths and stumble across him. He would have trouble explaining himself to them.

After about a half in hour later, he limped inside his relative’s house. Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen cooking for Uncle Vernon’s breakfast before he headed out to work.

“Boy! Where were you last night?” Harry winced at the shrill voice his Aunt had, and also at the look his Uncle gave him underneath his thick bushy eyebrows.

“I- I was attacked by a dog.” He stated pathetically and motioned at his ankle.

Aunt Petunia’s face turned white and Uncle Vernon stood up to get a better look. “Get off the carpet boy! You’ll ruin it with the blood and dirt!”

Harry blinked at his Aunt in confusion. When Dudley came home once he had scraped his neck on a branch and gotten a drop of blood on the carpet, but his Aunt didn’t say anything towards it. She just started comforting Dudley with sweets and cleaned off the wound with a fluffy cotton ball. But now Harry had come home with his ankle chewed off and she was complaining about the blood on the carpet. He knew he shouldn’t have come back here.

With a yelp he looked up in shock when his Uncle grabbed his arm in a violent grip.

“Did you hear your Aunt, boy? Get off the carpet you ungrateful lazy urchin.” With a hard shove, his uncle pushed him out the door to the backyard deck. He fell to his knees and winced as his ankle was bumped from the fall.

A wet, slap came at his face and he looked down at the deck to see a wet, dirty washcloth at his hands.

“Wipe the dirt off and go to your cupboard.” With that final word, his uncle slammed the door shut and left his nephew outside to clean, or rather, wipe away the blood.

It was rather pitiful to see a small boy gently wash the blood away from an infected, bloody, wound on the deck in the hot sun. A tear slid down his soft cheek and he sniffed away the feeling of loneliness.

Turner Halverson cursed as he charmed a pair of robes on after the night of the full moon. He didn’t know how his alpha, Fenrir Greyback, would act when he told him he had turned a small boy.

He just hoped his alpha wouldn’t be too angry at him. He still remembered the cries of the small boy as he tried to run away. It was smart of the kid to hide in the slide, but he didn’t get in there fast enough. He was gifted now with the werewolf. Turner didn’t even know if the boy was a wizard or not.

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself in front of his alpha. The man had a structure that screamed alpha! His shoulders were broad, along with the rest of his muscles, he was tall, probably around 6’4”, his hair was down to his shoulders in silky, silver, waves, and he had power that clung to him like a second skin. His wolf form was even more stunning.

Their alpha was beautiful.

Fenrir never took in a partner and he never indulged with sexual pleasure with any of his pack after he became alpha. It was against werewolf society to mate with anyone besides their own mate. Beside the fact that the whole pack would do anything for their leader, including bedding.

After the defeat of Lord Voldemort, Fenrir stopped turning humans into werewolves, afraid that without the Lord’s protection and money, he would have nowhere to keep his pack. And his pack was considerably large already, with Voldemort urging for more allies. Even if the pack wasn’t loyal to Lord Voldemort, they were loyal to Fenrir, who in turn made a pact with Voldemort for protection of his pack.

Alpha Fenrir promised his pack that Lord Voldemort would return and they would then continue on growing in number.

“Is there a reason why you left the warded area last night, Turner?” The alpha spoke calmly, even when his eyes showed the accusing of his disloyalty.

“I felt a pull toward a small muggle town, Fenrir. I apologize for my disobedience and will accept any punishment you give to me.” The rest of the pack was against the stone walls, watching in curiosity at the two werewolves. They never left their alpha alone, and Fenrir always had protection wherever he went, despite the fact he probably didn’t even need guard.

Turner let his eyes move over his pack cowering in the shadows. Most of them were naked, having no modesty with themselves since the wolf took control over them so easily. That was mostly the muggles who let their wolf take over; their alpha only wore a pair of ripped jeans to cover the necessities, and the wizards/witches followed in his path.

Turner, himself, was recently turned and preferred to wear robes to cover him from prying eyes. The whole pack thing still disturbed him at how they acted with each other. Such as sleeping together on the floor, bodies entwined with each other; muzzling each other and their alpha, eating raw meat with their hands, and last, but certainly not least, he was amazed at how the alpha worked.

Fenrir was like any other alpha, dominating and protective, but it still bothered Turner. He remembered when he had first turned into a werewolf, his alpha decided to state claim on him by… well, emptying his bladder on him. Fenrir believed in the truth of smell, if the pack smelt like him than other werewolves would know to stay away from them. Not just the claiming bothered him, but the way he had mood swings bothered him. One moment he was all gentle and loving, the next he was kicking them away. He saw how the more experienced werewolves took this, and realized they were used to it as if it was natural.

And not to mention how werewolves treated their mates. That was an issue Turner still didn’t understand. Each pair of mates had a dominate and submissive, and they loved each other endlessly but the dominate always treated the submissive like a… well like a submissive. It was difficult to explain and no doubt to understand.

A hand on his cheek caressed him and brought him back to his alpha.

“Who did you turn? How old were they?” Turner brought his eyes to the man’s handsome face and saw Fenrir’s canines out. Well, they were mostly out all the time.

“I… I don’t know. He was around four or five.” That was the part he didn’t want to discuss, but their was little chance he could hide it from the alpha.

Long fingernails scrapped his cheek and slapped him. Turner stumbled and fell on his arse in front of Fenrir who in return was glaring down at his werewolf.

“Nothing but a young child, Turner. You felt drawn to a toddler? I will give you leeway since you are a new werewolf, but next time you find the urge to bite, take your paw and stick it in your mouth.” The pack cowered and their eyes were locked on the alpha in his anger.

“You know I have little room for another one, Turner. Let alone a small child.” There it was again. Fenrir’s temper died down and he turned back to his throne like chair and sat down upon it, not giving Turner permission to stand up.

“You have no idea who it was? A muggle? A wizard? Do you know anything?” Tuner gulped and brought his eyes to the floor to stop his rapidly beating heart. How was he supposed to explain to the alpha that he just had this… urge?

“No. I think it was a wizard though.”

Silence and Turner heard the footsteps of the alpha come closer.

“Nothing?” Sharp nails raked through his hair and drew blood. “You will go back to the town on the full moon and collect my pup, bringing him to me. Do you understand?”

Turner gasped in pain and nodded frantically.

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” His voice was a growl and he swept out the room, half the pack following in his wake.

And Turner had to kneel on the hard floor for the rest of the day until his alpha ordered him to retreat from the room.

A/n: How was it? I just had this weird bunny in my head that I put down on paper.

I understand there will be some questions concerning Fenrir. In the sixth book it states that he is ragged, yellow teeth and nails, snarled hair, and so forth… but this is my AU and he is handsome.

Oh, and besides his looks, it states that he loves to bite children’s throats out and eat them. Yeah. Well that doesn’t happen… yet. Plus Voldemort is gone right now and he has to keep his pack under the notice of the wizarding world for their own protection.